


(im)mortal body, timeless souls

by deciphered



Category: Gravity Falls
Genre: BillDip, Excuse this, F/F, Fluff, Human Bill Cipher, I am very sorry, I mean, M/M, Older Dipper Pines, and then it began a slow descent into hell, i think this started off okay, only mentions of macifica though, this is a mess, this is just all fluff all i write is fluff i am sorry, yeah its mostly just billdip
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-26
Updated: 2017-03-26
Packaged: 2018-10-11 03:34:22
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,531
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10454055
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/deciphered/pseuds/deciphered
Summary: “I’m an immortal, omnipresent being of energy who can bend the very fabric of reality at the snap of a finger, who’s, frankly, insulted that you think I can’t steal a glass of champagne from across the room without you noticing,” Bill condemned, sipping his drink some more. “And you’re marrying me eventually, which makes Shooting Star correct in her proclamation.”{in which there's a wedding, a dream demon and some champagne}





	

**Author's Note:**

> this is hopeless. enjoy fuckers
> 
> (if you find any mistakes dont tell me cos i probably know im just too lazy to fix them)

Bill yanked on Dipper’s tie one last time, giving his chest two pats and stepping backwards to admire his own handiwork. “How is that?”

Dipper tugged at the collar, looking a little disgruntled. “Tight. A bit.”

“Oh, you’ll live,” he said. Then, paused. “Want me to loosen it for you?”

Dipper grimaced, swallowing. “Please.” 

Bill leaned back in to slip one slender finger into the knot and and pull it away from Dipper, just a centimetre or two. He let Dipper’s hands move up next to his, adjusting the cerulean tie on his own. Bill hummed, “Better?”

A nod. “Thanks.”

The corner of Bill’s lips quirked up at that, just a little. He turned away to examine his own reflection in the floor length mirror, adjusting a velvety black bow tie so it hung straight on his neck.

He turned back around. “How do I look?”

Dipper’s gaze raked over Bill’s figure quickly before darting back up into a gunmetal grey eye. “Lose the cane.”

“What? I like my cane.” Bill frowned holding the object in question up and looking at it. “It completes my look.”

“It makes you look like an ass.”

“Fine.” And Bill acquiesced with a snap of his fingers. The cane disappeared. “Then you lose the hat.”

Dipper opened his mouth in protest but shut it soon after, taking the hat off with a tiny pout. Bill smirked, though, and Dipper’s rebuttal came as soon as he caught the offending gesture; “In my defense, this hat completes me far more than your douchey cane. You call me ‘Pine Tree,’ for fuck’s sake.”

“And I love your hat,” Bill replied smoothly. “I just don’t think it’ll fit well with the theme of your sister’s wedding.”

“And your cane will?”

Bill considered this, brushing chocolate brown hair off of Dipper’s forehead to run his fingertips over the birthmark absentmindedly. “Fair point.”

Dipper swatted Bill’s hands away, smoothing the hair back down. “Remember, no touching before tomorrow, when we can tell everyone.”

Bill held his hands up in mock surrender, smirk plastered back onto his lips. “No touching in public, got it.”

“I’m honestly impressed with how you’ve been able to keep it in all this time,” Dipper remarked, leaning into the mirror and running his fingers through his hair in a futile attempt to clean it up. “Ready to go?”

Bill wrapped an arm around Dipper’s waist, looking uninterestedly back into their reflections and running his own fingers through Dipper’s hair, only messing it up a bit more. “Ready as I’ll ever be. Do you think it’s a bit risky to tell your family you’ve been dating an ex-villainous but still-dream-demon for the past three years right after your sister’s wedding?”

“Which is why,” Dipper said, prying Bill’s arm off his waist pointedly and moving to pick the keys off of the countertop and open the door. “We aren’t telling them _today_.”

Bill shrugged, sticking his hands into his pockets and sauntering out the door after his boyfriend. “Three years, sweetheart. That’s a long time of me holding back in public. I’m getting withdrawal symptoms.”

Dipper scoffed lightly, contentedly. “You’ll live. Get in the car.”

△▼△▼△

“Weddings are so stupidly complicated,” Bill muttered under his breath, fiddling with Dipper’s tie. He paused, raising his eyebrow at a Dipper who was looking at him bitterly from a mere few inches away. “Too close?”

Dipper mirrored his eyebrow raise. “Too close,” he confirmed flatly.

Bill slipped into a cheeky grin, but took a step back anyways, continuing. “Do you think it’s a bit forward to ask you to dance later? As _close acquaintances?_ ”

“Er, maybe, maybe not.” Dipper’s hands were in his pockets, cheeks tinged with red while Bill’s cold fingers continually brushed against his neck. “We could, if you really want.”

Bill licked his lips and Dipper’s gaze flickered downwards for a split second. “Well, I do really want, so I shall.”

Dipper exhaled slowly. “How many drinks have you had so far?”

“Oh, just one. I’m feeling great.” Bill licked his lips a second time, leaning in just a bit closer to straighten Dipper’s tie even more. Then, he paused, stared at it, and undid it to start over again.

“Bill, no one’s going to notice if my tie isn’t flawless. Also, don’t have any more.” Dipper dared to lift one hand up and straighten Bill’s crooked bow tie himself, stiffening when Bill paused from adjusting Dipper’s own tie.

Bill’s gaze hardened, pulling at the tie just slightly more aggressively. “I’m an immortal, omnipresent being of energy who can bend the very fabric of reality at the snap of a finger, I can have as many drinks of champagne as I want.”

Dipper let himself smile knowingly. “Well, I guess it’s just weird how you’re an _‘immortal, omnipresent being of energy who can bend the very fabric of reality at the snap of a finger’_ but you’re still more of a lightweight than me.”

Bill scoffed at that, looping the tie around and pulling it tight. “I am not a lightweight.”

“Okay, well, you’ve only had one drink and you’re already doing that… that thing again.”

Bill didn’t look up, eyebrows furrowed. “What thing?”

“The thing where you, uh.” Dipper watched him untie his tie for a fifth time, starting over. “Do one thing over and over. Like, last time you made French toast fifteen times before I stopped you because you didn’t think it was French enough.”

“Correction, it wasn’t toast enough.” Bill shook his head, tongue darting out to wet his bottom lip again. “It was just… soggy. Too much French.”

Dipper chuckled. “That sounds like a, uh, euphemism for something else.”

“Double meaning,” Bill sang, biting back a grin. “I mean, not untrue. There’s a fine line between just enough French and too much.”

“Have I ever crossed it?”

“Toast? Yeah. Other things? Nah. On the contrary, sometimes you’re too much toast. Jesus, Dipper, loosen up.” Bill licked his lips a fourth time, pulling down to loosen Dipper’s tie pointedly.

“Stop doing that, they’ll dry out.” Dipper’s hand shot up unconsciously, fingers brushing Bill’s lips lightly. 

Bill froze, staring at Dipper. Dipper brought his hand down quickly, eyes darting down with it. “Sorry. I, uh…”

“S’fine. It’s you who doesn’t want any PDA, yet, anyway.” Bill looked at him oddly. And then, he reached for Dipper’s tie again.

“Come on, Bill, just let it be,” Dipper sighed exasperatedly, catching the hand before it could start undoing the tie for the sixth time. 

Bill almost looked a little offended, holding up his free hand. “Just let me straighten it a bit more. I promise I won’t undo it again.”

“Ugh. Fine.”

Bill undid the tie.

“Bill, oh my god.”

“Shit, sorry. That was an accident.”

“Hey, Dipping Sauce! How’s it going?”

“Oh, I, uh--” Dipper stepped backwards, the tie slipping off his neck in the process. “Fine, I’m fine. You, uh--Bill. Yeah.”

Bill crossed his arms deliberately, tie still hanging from his fingers. “Hey, Shooting Star. Congratulations. Who did ya marry again?”

Mabel raised an eyebrow at their odd behavior, but answered the question anyway. “Oh, Pacifica--am I interrupting something?”

“No, no, nothing at all!” Dipper said with a nervous laugh, snatching his tie back and tying it back around his neck by himself hastily. “Bill’s drunk again and my tie was, uh, messed up. Congrats!”

Mabel accepted the shaky answer and grinned brightly, bringing her brother into a tight hug. “Thanks a lot, bro-bro! You’ll get married eventually, too, don’t worry.” Coming out of the hug and moving to an apathetic Bill examining his cuticles, she shot him a wink.

“What?” Dipper asked, drawing his eyebrows together while Mabel brought Bill into an equally rib-crushing hug. 

Mabel left again eventually, vivacious and bubbly ( not unlike the second glass of champagne Bill had somehow managed to find in the two seconds Dipper had been distracted), and Dipper settled next to Bill. “She winked at me. What does that mean?”

Bill raised an eyebrow at him, taking a sip of his champagne. “Weird. What did she say to you?”

“‘You’ll get married eventually, too,’” Dipper echoed with a snort. “Where’d you get the drink? You’re going to vomit later.”

“I’m an immortal, omnipresent being of energy who can bend the very fabric of reality at the snap of a finger, who’s, frankly, insulted that you think I can’t steal a glass of champagne from across the room without you noticing,” Bill condemned, sipping his drink some more. “And you’re marrying me eventually, which makes Shooting Star correct in her proclamation.”

Dipper blinked, going bright red at the comment. “... Right. Well, don’t blame me if you wake up with a hangover tomorrow.” 

Bill downed the rest of his drink and made the empty glass disappear again (yes, at the snap of his fingers) and smirked at Dipper. “Okay, well, you promised me a dance, is that correct?”

“Uh, yeah, I guess, but Mabel and Pacifica are only just starting--”

“Come with me, then.” Bill linked his fingers in between Dipper’s and started guiding him to the exit, long legs taking big strides, and Dipper had to jog a bit to catch up.

“Hey, hey--Bill? Where are we going?” Dipper asked, glancing behind him in a mild panic in case anyone was watching them abandon the reception. “Bill, the dance is starting, we just have to wait--”

“No, it’s alright, we can still hear the music from outside the banquet hall.” Then, Bill wrinkled his nose-- “I can’t believe the Northwests have a banquet hall.”

Surrounded by trees, fairy lights and rose petals from the wedding ceremony earlier that evening, Dipper stared at Bill, eyes wide. “Bill--I--

The first dance ended--he was right, they could hear the music from out behind the Northwest mansion--and Bill held out his hand, smiling at Dipper. “I thought you’d promised me the second dance.”

Dipper blinked, bit back a grin, and placed a hand in Bill’s. “Song?”

Bill’s eyes went blank, his head cycling through a bibliography of music. When he returned, he said, “Troye Sivan, Youth,” with a sniff of disdain. “They told me they’d surprise me, I wasn’t expecting a lame pop song.”

Dipper skimmed over his sentence warily and decided to ignore the fact that he’d planned this, instead just remarking, “You were surprised, technically.”

Bill pursed his lips. “It’ll do.” And then he placed Dipper’s hands on his shoulders and his own hands around Dipper’s waist, and instead of bringing out any of his usual, show-stopping dance moves all he did was sway from side to side. “So, about this, let me explain--”

Dipper nodded slowly. “Please do.”

Bill huffed, choosing his words carefully. “So, I know you wanted to tell everyone together after tonight, but I sort of went ahead and did that myself two weeks ago--”

“Wait, you did what--?”

“Let me explain,” Bill interjected, holding his hands up defensively. “Okay, I also, like, got your family’s blessings or whatever, which is kind of weird because blessing a demon is sort of like, er, trying to toss a match into a lake and expecting it to stay lit. Just stupid, you know?”

Dipper’s eyes went wide as soon as he realised what was happening, and Bill, noticing this, continued a bit faster. “Anyways, then I sort of came up with this big plan with your sister and we went out to find rings, and I felt like backing out a bunch of times but whenever I expressed any feelings depicting it Shooting Star would threaten me. With a shoe. And blackmail.” Bill shuddered.

“Also, that’s not exactly what I mean by that, either--what was I saying, again? Yeah, uh, not that I didn’t want to marry you, of course I do, and if you ever married else I would tear their intestines out and hang them upside down in a butcher’s shop, but it was nerve-wracking. Obviously. I mean, who knew that demons had feelings? Wow. I mean, if I didn’t have feelings, I wouldn’t have been able to fall in love with you, which, actually, is sort of weird, now that I think about it, because in the entirety of my grand existence I’ve always thought I was just a emotionless being of energy with no ability to feel anything close to love at all, and, actually, I’ve thought about this for a while, and, what if I don’t actually love you? What if my version of love isn’t anything close to human love and wanting to lock you up in the mindscape and keep you all to myself for the rest of existence isn’t actually love? That’s actually kind of risky, me wanting to marry you now, because--”

“Bill,” Dipper said.

Bill swallowed. “Yeah?”

“Please just shut up and ask me the question already.”

Bill laughed nervously, digging into his pocket to retrieve a blue box. “Um, should I get down on one knee? Is that what humans do? Okay, I’ll do that, whatever.”

Bill took an awkward step back and lowered onto his knee, opening the box up with shaky fingers. “Hey, Pine Tree, let’s get married.”

“Please.”

Bill grinned a grin that could rival the Cheshire cat and slid a shiny gold ring onto Dipper’s finger. “Great. What do we do now? Blood sacrifice?”

“You’re such an idiot,” Dipper muttered, and kissed him. Hard.

△▼△▼△

“Weddings are so stupidly complicated,” Bill muttered to himself, straightening his bow tie in the mirror. Mabel had forced Dipper to stay at her and Pacifica’s house rather than his and Bill’s apartment, so he had gone to bed alone, waken up alone, eaten breakfast alone, and gotten dressed alone--needless to say, he was in a bad mood. And on his own wedding day.

“I’m getting a sense of deja vu right now, believe it or not.”

“Right,” Bill snorted. “Wait, what?”

“Hey, Bill.” Dipper smiled, leaning against the door frame and peering into their room at his fiance. “I’d tell you that you look nice today, but you always do.”

Bill chuckled, abandoning his reflection and walking over to smooth out Dipper’s tie and adjust the collar. “Same for you. Except, I have to say, the suit suits you. You should wear them more often.”

“Yeah, right.” Dipper rolled his eyes, shoving his hands into his pockets. “You do that yourself. I’m going to stick to normal people clothing.”

“Mmm.” Bill licked his lips (a habit, that, in the entire two and a half years they’d been together, had ceased to been broken) and hummed. “Shooting Star let you come?”

“I told her I was going to buy lube and she screamed and told me to get whatever I needed and not to come back until I finished.”

“Hmm. Do you think we have enough lube?”

“Bill, shut up. Anyways, I have to go now, so I’ll see you.”

“Good luck kiss before we see each other again?”

Dipper rolled his eyes, but placed a chaste kiss on the corner of Bill’s lips anyways. “I’ll see you.”

“Bye, Dipper Cipher-Pines.”

“That’s not my name yet.”

“I don’t care. It’s a good name.”

**Author's Note:**

> oh my god what a mess


End file.
